


my ride or die

by teacupandhellbeast



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupandhellbeast/pseuds/teacupandhellbeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why wait?” she asks softly and he hums, cracking an eye open. </p>
<p>“Bobbi, it is quarter to eleven at night,” he states matter-of-factly. “Who the hell would even be around to marry us?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	my ride or die

**Author's Note:**

> i was watching furious 7 and, lo and behold, [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa4d72jHG5E) wouldn't leave me alone (you don't need to have any knowledge of the film to read this).

Bobbi falls gracelessly to the bed and groans when every bone in her body screams in protest. A few seconds later, the bed dips as Lance joins her, lying on his back. He bends his arm to reach out and touch her, fingers brushing over her bare shoulder. She sighs at the contact and gingerly shifts until she’s pressed up against him.

“Next time,” she says, muffled by a faceful of comforter, “let’s not scream ‘is that all you’ve got?’ while taking cover behind a shitty table.” He snorts, cutting off with a whine when his ribs undoubtedly ache.

“I will admit, didn’t think they’d have a grenade launcher.”

“You always say that.” He squawks at her and bumps her shoulder into his, making her whimper softly.

“When have I ever said that?” She doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead favors attempting to relax her sore muscles, not that it works.

Lance pokes her cheek and she blinks up at him, surprised to find that it’s blindingly bright.

“C’mon, sleeping beauty.” She glares up at him, then notices he’s not in dirt-streaked clothing. No, he’s in a nice, crisp button-up, doing up a tie as he raises an eyebrow. “Places to go, plans to foil.”

“Is it really morning?” Bobbi asks as she stretches, spine cracking in several places, and she sags with a pleased hum.

“Yeah, you passed out nearly immediately. Didn’t move either. It was a bit frightening, had to check that you were still breathing.” She cracks an eye open and finds him smirking down at her as he tightens the tie, straightening it. “C’mon, love, we really do have to go. I already hung your dress up and got out your kit, all you need to do is wash the grime off your face.” She rolls off the bed, taking inventory of every ache. Her shoulder’s a bit fucked up, but nothing to worry about until after it’s all said and done.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when you got in the shower,” she grumbles, making him laugh.

“Because then we would’ve been later than we’re already going to be,” he teases and she sticks her tongue out at him as she passes him on her way to the bathroom. “Real mature, sweetheart.” 

She rolls her eyes and flips him the bird behind her back before slamming the door shut behind her.

-

Bobbi tugs at the hem of her dress and frowns when it won’t go any lower.

“You picked this out for me, didn’t you?” Lance turns around, an answer on the tip of his tongue that quickly dies when he sees her.

“Bloody hell.”

“You know how I feel about short dresses.”

“Love, with legs like that… Christ,” he breathes, eyes raking up and down the short white dress. She doesn’t feel uncomfortable, she never does with him, but she pictures everyone else doing the same and it makes her skin crawl.

“This isn’t even a dress, it barely qualifies as a shirt.” He crosses the room to her, settling his hands in the small of her back. She heaves a sigh and looks up at him, looping her arms around his neck. Something about his stupidly happy face makes her smile and she leans more of her weight into him.

“You look gorgeous, Bobbi,” he murmurs solemnly and she looks off to the side, the tips of her ears burning.

“You’re just saying that because you have to.” His finger hooks under her chin and draws her back, holding her there so he can look at her clearly.

“I’m honest when it comes to you.” She wrinkles her nose at him and he chuckles before kissing the tip of it, grinning wider when her entire face screws up. Lance steps back and takes her hand, guiding her toward the door. “All ready? Where's your gun?”

Bobbi sighs and lifts her dress, showing a small gun strapped to her hip, just barely concealed by the flowy fabric. “I miss my actual gun.” He smiles and pulls his jacket out, revealing his holster. 

“Well you're in luck, it's right here.” She bounces forward and kisses him, wrapping her fingers around his tie. 

“Knew there was a reason I liked you.”

-

Things go to shit. 

But, then again, when do they not?

She's crouched behind the bottom half of a wall, gun held to her chest. Lance tuck and rolls over to her, crashing into her and throwing her off balance; she blames the heels, the damned things. Bobbi reaches down, caresses his waist, and he cocks an eyebrow. 

“Is this really the best time to shag, love?” he asks incredulously, making no move to get up from the floor. She rolls her eyes and takes her gun from his holster, dropping the small one on his chest. 

“I'm not that reckless.” She peeks out, manages to get off a few shots while dodging the bullets they send her way. “Y’know, they never learn that firefights come _after_ dessert.”

“You're just bitter because you missed out on tiramisu.” She ducks back down, hair arcing in a halo as she whips her head around. 

“You're damn right I'm bitter about that, it looked fantastic.” He spins on the floor, head sticking out enough that he can get a visual, and he pulls out his own gun, glass breaking as he misses and hits windows. 

“I'll make you some when we get home.”

“You don't do it right, you never get it strong enough,” she complains as she takes note of the exits. “If we hurry, we might be able to duck out the window.”

“I’m telling my mum you said that about her recipe.” He glances at the window at immediately turns back to her. “Please tell me you see the guys with even bigger guns directly out that window.”

“There's also a car, armored with bulletproof windows, still running. We can make it.” Lance narrows his eyes, then sighs when she doesn't show any signs of budging.

“Fine. But you're leading.”

Not even two minutes later, they're in the car, Lance behind the wheel as they speed away. 

“‘We can make it,’ she says. ‘It'll be fine,’ she says,” he mocks as he takes a hard corner, sending her body slamming into the window. 

“You're not the one who took the bullet, you big baby. And careful on the turns, Christ, I'd prefer it if you didn’t lodge this thing further in my arm.” The car accelerates suddenly and she grips the middle console, gritting her teeth. 

“It's stuck in your arm?!” he yells and Bobbi sighs. 

“You focus on not getting us in a wreck, alright?” Lance grumbles to himself as he weaves his way through the streets, taking nearly every side road in an attempt to confuse any possible tails. She preoccupies herself with trying to staunch the bleeding, breathing slowly, in through her nose, out through her mouth. 

“Lance Hunter, take another hard left and you will find out what happens when I bend your dick that way,” she growls. The bleeding stopped half an hour ago but she's starting to feel woozy. “Just-. Find a shitty motel, I need to get this thing out.”

He doesn't deem that with a response, but he manages to find one that accepts cash upfront, the room booked under fake names. She's rather sad about the state of her dress, streaked with blood, long since dried by now; it's not coming clean without an actual miracle. 

He helps her walk, her good arm slung around his shoulder, and she wants to be annoyed, but she sways dangerously when she first steps out of the car, nearly tipping over onto her face. Lance guides her straight to the bathroom, gently sitting her on the toilet. He checks her arm, drawing a quiet groan out of her when it shifts the bullet.

“Bobbi,” he says softly, and she manages to open her eyes enough to see him crouching in front of her. She nods, knowing what he’s going to ask.

“Get the vodka first.” He leaves to fetch the first aid kit and she focuses on breathing, trying to block out the pain. The adrenaline must’ve worn off finally and she’s weary, ready to sleep, but she won’t let herself, not until she’s stitched up.

He comes back, wordlessly getting out the needle and thread. Catching sight of the vodka, she rocks forward to grab it, taking a long swig. “Hey!” She forces a smile and brings the bottle down to her lap. “Save that, we don’t have a lot.”

“Not my fault this requires a needle.” His expression softens and she grits her teeth as she holds the bottle out to him. “Just get it over with.”

It stings like hell when he sterilizes the wound, hurts even more when he has to dig the bullet out. After that, she barely feels anything as Lance stitches her up, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he does so; she’d laugh if she wasn’t biting the inside of her cheek.

“All done,” he says finally, and she sags into him slightly, sighing when his hand curves around her elbow. “You got lucky, Bob.”

“Please. I’ve been shot in the arm before, it’s noth-.”

“I almost couldn’t get it out.” He pushes her back and sits on his haunches, rifling through the kit again. Lance pulls out a roll of cotton before kneeling up, tugging lightly on her wrist until she turns. He doesn’t say anything as he bandages the wound, mouth twisting into a frown when the pristine white cloth immediately turns red.

“Love, you gotta be more careful.”

“Lance,” she murmurs, cupping his cheek, making him look up. “You know that’s difficult, what with SHIELD and all.”

“For me,” he responds, voice cracking, and his fingers encircle her wrist. “I can’t lose you.” 

“I can’t lose you either,” Bobbi confesses and she leans forward until her forehead rests against his, staying like that until her heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst. He pulls back and she can see his eyes practically melt as he smiles at her. Warmth spreads throughout her body and she slides to her knees, wincing as her arm twinges. He bends to check it and she shakes her head, placing her hand on the side of his cheek and bringing him back so they’re face to face. 

“Everything alright?” She swallows around the growing lump in her throat. 

“Yeah, just…” Lance leans in, prodding her to go on, and she takes a deep breath. “Marry me.”

He jerks backward in shock, eyebrows flying up to his hairline as he tips over onto the tile. Bobbi snickers as a grin splits her face. His face falls immediately and he shakes his head dejectedly.

“That’s not funny, Bobbi.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t joking.” He looks up at her again and she rolls her eyes, hauling him back to his knees.

“You’re serious about this?” She nods solemnly and winds her good arm around his waist. 

“I am dead serious about this.” He blows out a breath, smiling widely, and he places his hand on her neck, the other settling on her hip. 

“Damn,” he grins, “you beat me to it.” Bobbi raises an eyebrow and gently digs her fingers into the small of his back.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Had a plan to go out to dinner and everything. Just… hadn’t quite gotten around to buying the actual ring yet.” She brushes the tip of her nose to his, snorting when he pulls back to itch it. She knocks his hand out of the way with her chin, kissing him soundly.

“C’mon,” Lance says finally, standing up and pulling her with him. “Let’s go to bed.”

It aches to lie down, but she can’t bring herself to care when he presses up against her and wraps himself around her, careful to avoid her arm. Her eyelids start to droop almost immediately when she realizes something.

“Hey,” she mumbles sternly, poking him in the chest none too lightly. He whines but opens his eyes, somehow winding himself even closer. “You never answered the question.” He snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head lightly.

“Yes, Bobbi Morse, I’ll marry you.” She beams and he sighs happily, nuzzling her cheek. As her mind wanders, she scratches over the base of his scalp, eliciting what could very well be a purr, and he stretches out, pressing his nose to the hollow of her shoulder.

“Why wait?” she asks softly and he hums, cracking an eye open. 

“Bobbi, it is quarter to eleven at night,” he states matter-of-factly. “Who the hell would even be around to marry us?”

“I don't know, there's gotta be a priest or some shit.” He snorts and pulls back, smile fading when he sees her looking at him earnestly. 

“Bloody hell, you're serious.” Bobbi nods and thumbs his jaw.

“I don't wanna wait any longer. Anyway, I'm already wearing a white dress.”

“Oh sure, never mind the fact that it's bloodstained.”

“Eh, minor detail.” She grins, letting it soften into a lovestruck gaze. “I want you. I want this.” He searches her eyes for the slightest hint of doubt, sighing happily when he finds none.

“Let's do it.”

-

“Do you have the ring?” Bobbi looks between the priest and Lance, snickering behind her hand. He'd taken one look at her dress and simply asked not to know, but he was more than happy to help them, even in the middle of the night, although she's pretty sure she heard him mumble, ‘crazy.’

Lance digs through pocket before smiling as he pulls out a keychain, one she recognizes from the bar where they met. 

“Will this work?” he asks and the priest takes it, sighing as he drapes it over their joined hands. The priest continues with the ceremony, but Bobbi’s too lost in the moment. 

“Right here, in this moment, it’s just us,” Lance says suddenly and she blinks, coming back to reality. The priest gestures for her to say something and she nods, staring into Lance’s eyes for a few seconds. 

“I promise that you will never be alone,” she says solemnly, squeezing his hand. “Wherever you go, I go. You fight, I fight. And, Lance Hunter, I swear to g-.” She stops herself, giggling as she realizes where they are, resisting the urge to lean into him. “I swear, if you die on me, then I'll die with you.”

“You and me, forever.”

“And always,” she adds, face lighting up as he smiles. 

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Bobbi throws herself at Lance before the priest can finish his sentence, looping her arms around his neck as she kisses him passionately, pressing herself closer than she thought possible. Lance barely manages to keep them upright, stumbling backward under the sudden shift in weight, but kissing her just as enthusiastically. 

The priest clears his throat and Bobbi blushes, stepping back as quickly as she can. Lance is still holding her hand and he tugs her back, winding his other arm around front, chin resting on her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Father,” Lance says softly with a nod before slowly walking her backward, still wrapped around her tightly. She laughs as he pulls her down the aisle, breaking out into a run. As soon as they get outside, he gathers her up in his arms, spinning her around in a wide circle. She shrieks as her feet leave the ground and she wraps her her arms around his head, holding on tightly. 

“Oh god, what the hell did we just do,” he chuckles, setting her down and leaning into her. 

“Probably made the biggest mistake,” Bobbi says with a grin, resting her forehead against his. He returns her smile with one of his own, lacing their hands, the edges of the keychain digging into their palms. Lance noses her cheek and tilts his chin up so he can properly kiss her. 

“Well, it's one I definitely wouldn't mind repeating.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/bobbiimorses) || [tumblr](http://teacupandhellbeast.tumblr.com/)


End file.
